


when the morning comes and your throat is sore

by loursetlalune



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Anal Fingering, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loursetlalune/pseuds/loursetlalune
Summary: Rick's going through some vague and unspecified mental health stuff, and Negan's just trying to help him get some sleep the way a good husband should.





	

Negan wakes up to an empty bed and the sound of the shower running. The clock on the bedside table nearly blinds him when he cracks an eyelid — 3:43am.

So. It’s another one of those nights.

He braces himself for the initial shock of cold and rolls out from under the covers, makes his way to the bathroom and opens the door without knocking. Rick’s sitting on the floor of the shower stall, hot water and steam pouring over him, and Negan leans against the doorframe for a minute, just looking.

When Rick opens his eyes and meets Negan’s gaze after a minute or two, Negan gives him a soft smile. “How long you been in there?” he asks.

Rick doesn’t answer, just says “I’m tired,” and closes his eyes again, turning his face back to the spray.

“I bet,” Negan tells him. “You gotta stop this shit, Rick,” he says, gently as he can manage. “You need sleep.”

Rick shuts off the water and stands, accepts the towel that Negan holds out to him and runs it over his hair.

“Did I wake you up?” Rick asks.

“No,” Negan lies, and takes the towel from him, joins their hands to pull Rick out onto the mat and wraps the towel around him, moves it softly over him until he’s dry enough.

“I can’t sleep,” Rick says, leaning his weight into Negan. “It doesn’t stop.”

Negan inhales deeply and sighs. He wraps both his arms around Rick; presses his lips to the shower-warm skin at the join of Rick’s neck and shoulder.

“It doesn’t stop,” Rick repeats.

“Hey,” Negan says softly into Rick’s temple. “Come back to bed. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” His hand drifts up Rick’s back, he tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck and holds firm when Rick shivers and nods.

Rick doesn’t always need this, and even when he does, he never uses that word himself. He never has to ask for it, because Negan just always knows. There’s no fucking _question_ that Rick needs it tonight. Even if Negan doesn’t know exactly what’s going on in Rick’s head, it’s clear enough that his mind has no intention of quitting without some help. Negan can't help with all of it, but he can help him shut it off.

He guides Rick back to their bed, lets him crawl in first, then turns off the light and moves to lean over top of Rick. Bracing himself on his elbow, Negan draws his hand up to Rick’s cheek and strokes his thumb gently, leans down and kisses him softly.

“What do you need?” he whispers.

“Don’t know,” Rick replies, voice gravelly with exhaustion. “You,” he says.

Negan leans back down to kiss him again, lets his palm drop until it rests over the pulse in Rick’s throat, feels it thrum steadily, certainly too quick for sleep. Rick kisses him back and opens his lips to let Negan in.

“Do you want Daddy to fuck you?” Negan asks.

Rick shakes his head, eyes drooping. “I’m too tired,” he says.

“Do you want Daddy to make you come?”

Rick’s hand is on the back of Negan’s neck, drawing him back down into a kiss instead of answering, and yeah, Negan can do that. Negan can make Rick come. He does that pretty much every day of the week, and does a pretty damn good job of it. He pulls away from Rick’s mouth and fumbles in the dark for the drawer, grabs the lube and settles himself between Rick’s open thighs while he slicks his own fingers.

“Just relax,” he says, low. “Gonna tucker you right out.”

Rick would laugh, Negan’s pretty sure, if he wasn’t so gone on exhaustion.

Negan rubs firm circles against Rick’s hole without pressing in, and Rick moves slightly, trying to urge Negan on.

“Relax,” Negan repeats, pressing Rick’s hip down with his other hand. “Just let me.” He presses a finger in and Rick exhales heavily. “That’s it,” Negan murmurs. “Take Daddy’s finger so good, don’t you?”

Rick hums and reaches down to take Negan’s other hand from where it’s holding him in place, laces their fingers together loosely on the sheets beside his hip.

Negan adds another finger beside his first, crooks them just right and leans forward to lick a stripe up Rick’s balls to the base of his cock, which has filled out completely.

"Negan," Rick whines above him as he works his fingers against Rick's prostate, slowly but firmly.

“Just like that,” Negan whispers. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He squeezes Rick’s hand before trying to pull away, but Rick won’t let him go. He holds on tight.

“I need my other hand sweetheart. Need to stroke that big dick for you, make you come.” He keeps moving his fingers inside of Rick, working that spot relentlessly.

Rick reaches down with his other hand and takes his cock in his fist, makes a tight circle and starts jerking himself in time with Negan’s fingers.

“That’ll work,” Negan says and moves his mouth back down to lick another broad stroke from Rick’s perineum up to his balls. He sucks one of them into his mouth and feels Rick clench down on his fingers.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice sounding gravelly to his own ears. “That feel good?”

Rick says nothing, just keeps fisting the head of his cock and breathing heavily.

“Tell me,” Negan says, rubbing his stubble roughly against the inside of Rick’s thigh. “Tell Daddy how that feels.”

That line earns him a broken groan, and he lowers his mouth once again to Rick’s sac, laving over his balls wetly while his fingers keep rubbing insistent circles against his prostate.

“Fuck, Negan,” Rick gasps. “Don’t— don’t stop.”

There’s not a chance. He pulls one of Rick’s balls back into his mouth, sucks and sucks and sucks before releasing it with a pop and focusing the same attention on the other one.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Rick groans, fisting the head of his cock rapidly. Negan moans around him then pulls off.

“Come, sweetheart, that’s it, show Daddy how good it feels. Let go and give me that come, baby.”

And that’s all it takes — Rick’s clenching down hard on Negan’s fingers and shooting over his own fist as he fucks into it, gasping as his hips twitch upwards.

“Oh fuck, that’s so _good_ baby,” Negan croons. “Oh, you’re coming so hard for me, aren't you? Yeah, that’s it, that’s so good.” He kisses Rick’s hip and thrusts his own cock once, twice against the mattress, the urgency to come himself having snuck up on him.

Negan finally lets up on his prostate when he feels Rick coming down, licks over his balls one more time to feel him shudder under his tongue, then withdraws his fingers carefully and wipes them off on the comforter, because fuck it. He gently pulls his other hand away from Rick, where their fingers are still tangled together. Rick’s hand is totally lax now and he doesn’t put up a fight. Negan crawls up Rick’s body and slots himself against his hip, braces himself on his forearms and grinds his neglected cock against the tight muscles of Rick’s abdomen, the way eased by Rick’s come.

He feels Rick’s hands both come up to the back of his neck and he’s pulled down into a kiss. When Rick pulls back and breathes “Daddy” against Negan’s lips, Negan can’t — he can’t — he lets go, buries his face in Rick’s neck and groans long and deep, cock pulsing between their stomachs.

He rolls off of Rick, lays his head down on the pillow and throws an arm over his eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rick.”

“Yeah,” Rick answers. “That was… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Negan echoes. There isn’t much else to say.

Negan stands once again, stumbles towards the bathroom, this time without the light coming from under the door to guide his way. He wets a washcloth before crawling back into bed and cleaning them both up. The washcloth gets thrown blindly across the room, flopping onto the floor somewhere unseen. Rick doesn’t say anything, and that’s the kind of shit he’d normally complain about, so Negan knows he did his job well tonight.

“I did tucker you out, didn’t I?” he asks smugly.

“Hmm?”

Negan chuckles. “Nothing,” he says, rolling Rick over and scooting up behind him. He throws an arm across Rick’s stomach and Rick brings his own up over top of Negan’s to hold it in place.

Negan rearranges their hands so that he can press his fingers to Rick’s wrist, feels his heartbeat slower than before, and slowing down further. He presses his lips to the back of Rick’s neck once before resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

“Am I okay?” Rick asks quietly just before they both drift off.

Negan doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. It doesn’t particularly matter, though.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This happened mostly by accident.


End file.
